Half An Agent Is Better Than None by Thesarusgirl
by Thesaurusgirl
Summary: Colby's journey leads him to a place he never expects to find.


**I don't own any part of Numbers or any of the characters, but you knew that already. Any resemblance to real people or places, blah, blah, blah. This is my first fanfiction story, so, tell me what you think, but be nice. One last thing . The only thing I wanted out of English class was myself. You've been warned. **

Half An Agent is Better Than None- by Thesaurusgirl

Chapter 1-You Wear It Well

Colby was still reeling internally from his 3 year undercover assignment to help breakup the Chinese spy ring led by Mason Lancer. The pressure of not being able to tell even his best friends that he was undercover had taken more out of him than even he realized. These people, his team, had trusted him, and he had been forced to lie to them for two years, every minute of that time eating away another small portion of his soul. In addition, the fact that he was coerced into the assignment while still at Quantico, and that he was given the assignment because of his connection to Dwayne Carter, who had once literally crawled thru fire to save Colby's life added to his guilt. Was he responsible, in a way, for Dwayne's death also? If he had been paying closer attention to Dwayne's state of mind after Afghanistan, would Carter still have been vulnerable to the Chinese? If he had kept in touch after their homecoming the way that soldiers say they will with their comrades in arms, could it have made a difference? He would never have the answer to those questions now.

Colby knew one thing for sure, he couldn't burden anyone else with the mess his life had become. So many years of trying to hold it all in, handle it all alone, deal with everything that came with 24 hour stress was beginning grind him into the earth, but his teammates did not deserve to be burned by the acid slowly eating away at his insides. Soon, very soon, he knew there would be only an outer shell. The Colby Granger who had lived the small town life of Winchester, Idaho, the Colby who had proudly enlisted in the U.S. Army, served his country with honor, taken on the challenge of Ranger training and missions, C.I.D. assignments, gone on to get a college degree and enter the F.B.I. academy with eagerness would be gone completely before long. In his place was a straw man. A indiscernible copy of his former self. Unless someone looked very closely, intently, no difference could be seen. Even someone who knew him as well as David Sinclair would not see the change. No one around him knew what to look out for. What were the warning signs signaling an imminent system failure?

Colby was experienced at hiding in plain sight. Adept at masking any sign of distress or uncertainty. And used to carrying the burden on his broad shoulders alone. So he hid well the nightmare landscape the inside of his head had become. To David, Don, Nikki or anyone else close to him, he seemed normal. Recently, though, he had slipped. Made an ugly mistake that almost let the cat out of the bag. Lynn Potter. Colby had been focusing so much of his attention on keeping David and the others from realizing the extent of the damage, that when a beautiful, charming woman offered him a chance to be free of the pressure if only for a short while, Granger had been unable to resist. He knew, of course, that it was a colossal blunder. A move that could cost him not only his FBI career, but the respect and trust he had worked so hard to earn again from the only people in his life that Colby could come close to regarding as family. Still, he was powerless to halt the headlong slide into her arms.

Oddly, he was equally unable to prevent sharing the knowledge of his misdeed with David. Immediately after he was away from Lynn Potter, he'd felt the need, no the absolute urgency, to tell his partner what had happened with the woman. Even the advance certainty of the angry surprise and disgust Colby had known he would see in Sinclair's eyes could not stop the words from tumbling out. Following the relief of unburdening himself, Colby had felt fresh shame for his actions. Why _had _ he let David know what had taken place? Now his friend and partner was faced with the choice of keeping the secret or informing Don. Protecting his partner or doing the right thing by bringing it to their boss's attention. " What is _wrong_ with me?" Colby wondered. "What kind of bottom feeder have I become that I would do that to a friend?" It was a sign of how deeply he'd sunk into the quicksand. He opened the center drawer of his desk, contemplating the envelope within and it's contents. He should do it now, before it was too late, before he got somebody, maybe David, Don, Nikki or even Charlie killed. Colby knew he should, but he could not bring himself to pick the envelope up, walk over to Don's desk and give it to the supervisory agent. With that action would come the explanation of why it was necessary. Seeing the look of renewed betrayal from Don after working so hard to regain his place on the team was something Colby, for all his outer brave front, could not face, so he fought a delaying action. Stalled for time while his mind tried desperately to find an alternative. Any other way to handle the matter. Deep down, he understood there was none. That eventually, the truth will out, but for the first time in his life, he was letting fear of the outcome influence his actions. He felt dishonored, cowardly even, but inertia stayed his hand. Colby closed the drawer with a hopefully unseen shudder and attempted to get back to what he appeared to be working on. A hand on his shoulder interrupted him. He looked up to see David Sinclair staring down with a mildly impatient look on his face.

"Guess what, warrant finally came thru. Time to go. Better grab your gear"

David said, then headed for the elevator after Don and Nikki. Colby took a deep breath and grabbed what he knew he would need, hurrying to catch up with his teammates.

Chapter 2-Once More, With Feeling

Colby looked at the clock across the room as he stood next to Don Eppes desk. 11:00 p.m. When he'd first joined the team several years ago, and again when he'd returned last year, he'd made note of the time. He thought it only fitting that he marked the exact time he ceased to be an FBI agent. The envelope he held contained his resignation. Overdue resignation, Colby told himself. Way past time. He was a little surprised. Not that he was finally taking this step, but that it had taken him so long to get here. From the time he was a kid, he'd never been the type to dodge a task because it was unpleasant or difficult. His dad had told Colby it was the "Granger grit." Colby's grandmother had called it something else, usually with a glint of humor in her eye. Colby had the feeling she was secretly proud of him for it. Remembering that didn't help much now. As the envelope landed on Don's desk it sounded very loud to Colby's ears.

Not as loud, Colby reflected, as the sound of the gun fired earlier in the day which had wounded David. The raid on the warehouse had at first gone as planned. Don and his team of agents, backed up by a heavily armed FBI swat unit, had every reason to believe their targets, members of one of L.A.'s more notorious street gangs, would be caught off guard by the timing of the strike. Dealing not only several varieties of illegal drugs, but also guns and stolen merchandise, across state lines no less, had put the gang on the Bureau's radar. This particular group also had the grisly habit of choosing to eliminate potential witnesses by means of a lethal overdose of one of the drugs that were proving so profitable. Weeks of painstaking surveillance and investigation had finally produced enough evidence to persuade a judge to ok a warrant for the raid. As usual, David and Colby, who knew each other's moves so well, had been partnered together. Don had wanted Nikki Bentancourt with him, a chance to further evaluate the progress she was making as a probationary agent.

At first, after encountering no resistance, Colby traded a look with Sinclair, knowing they shared the same thought. That this at first promising looking bust was turning into just that, a bust. Trailed by half the assault team they moved deeper into the hulking, not nearly as abandoned as it should have been structure, expecting at any time to face a deadly, well armed opposition. What came next brought both men up short. Moving cautiously around a broken doorway into a dim, gutted room, Granger and Sinclair had no trouble discerning the object not twenty feet away, a bare lone bulb acting as a spotlight. A man, or rather, what was left of a man, bloody, battered and as Sinclair momentarily discovered, quite dead. While David moved in cautiously to check for any signs of life, Colby moved around the corpse to check the tray to the other side of the victim. Seeing what lay on it made his blood turn to ice. Syringes. An array of half a dozen or so, some loaded, some not. He checked the vials also on the tray. And began to have trouble breathing. He knew these drugs, intimately. Two of them had once coursed thru his own veins. Time slowed and stretched as Granger found himself in the grip of a full on flashback. The warehouse disappeared around him. He could feel the ties that had bound him to the chair cutting into the flesh of his wrists. Salt air tinged his nostrils as he heard a softly mocking voice asking yet again,"do they know my name?" He shuddered unable to break free. Then the situation made the decision for him. Movement in the darkness behind David went unnoticed as Colby fought with his treacherous memory. Too late, he saw the weapon aimed squarely at David's back. Granger yelled a warning, raised his own weapon, fired. A grunt of pain told Colby his own round had gone home. Relieved, he moved in to check his target, seeing the wounded, now out of commission banger as the man fell into the circle of scant lighting. A groan behind him commanded his attention. He turned to see his partner lying on the concrete floor, eyes clinched shut in agony, blood seeping slowly from between his fingers.

Chapter 3-Misunderstandings

Don stood outside David Sinclair's hospital room, watching the man sleep, under the influence of anesthesia. The two hour operation to remove the slug that had penetrated his agent's vest and lodged in a shoulder had gone well. The doctor's had already told Don and the rest of the team that Sinclair would be out of commission for a few weeks, but would make a complete recovery. Most relieved of all to hear the news had been Colby. Following swiftly on the heels of David's injury, the shooter had been restrained by SWAT. Don and Nikki had arrived soon after that. The hope that the gang members would be mostly taken by surprise by the raid had turned out to be correct. Perhaps it was hubris or maybe the fact that they had gone unchecked for so long. Whatever the reason, it had proven to be easier to take the criminal ring down than estimated. Still, Don knew, it could have been much worse. To hear that David would not only survive but sustain no permanent damage was the best possible outcome under the circumstances. All of the Eppes team had been glad to hear the doctor's words. But the more he thought about it, Don considered, Colby's reaction had been mixed at best. Mixed with what? Guilt? Shame? What would Granger have to feel guilty or ashamed about? David hadn't been able to give many details, but what he been able to tell had let his boss know Colby had, expectedly, acquitted himself well. By Sinclair's account, Granger's timely warning and return fire had prevented the 'banger's shot from necessitating a call to David's sister in New York. The type Don hoped he would never have to make. So, what was Colby's problem? And where, Eppes wondered, was Granger? Don had expected to have to chase Colby out of the hospital to allow David to get some rest, but Colby hadn't been seen for hours. He'd disappeared right after the doctor had let everyone know David was in the clear.

Don's musings were interrupted by the escape of a mammoth yawn. This day, he decided, had to come to an end. Right now. He'd check on David and figure out Colby's A-typical attitude in the morning. Eppes headed home, his own place for once, not Charlie's, (it was almost midnight). Crashing in bed barely undressed enough to qualify, Don last conscious thought was the mountain of paperwork involved in wrapping up the case that awaited him and the others in the morning.

As David slept in the hospital and Don at home, Colby stood wide awake staring out of the window of the hotel room he'd settled in for the night. After stopping by the FBI offices and leaving his resignation letter and the last 302's he would ever complete for Don to find in the morning, he'd gone back to his apartment. Letting the man know he would be away for an indeterminate amount of time and writing a check large enough to cover the remainder of his lease, he deposited it with his mystified, and half-asleep, building manager. Years of needing to be ready to move at a moment's notice meant he already had a bag packed. He would be able to return for the rest of his belongings later. Right now, he just wanted to get the hard part over with. L. A. had come to feel like home. Leaving was something he had to do quickly or he knew he would not be able to. Colby knew his erstwhile teammates wouldn't understand, at first. They wouldn't understand how necessary it was that Colby get as far away from all of them as possible.

David had told Don that Colby's action's had saved David's life. The after action reports spoke in glowing terms of Colby quick thinking and quicker reactions. But his partner, former partner, Colby corrected himself, had it wrong. What David didn't realize, what Don did not know, what was _really_ happened. They didn't understand that Colby had frozen at the sight of those syringes and the drugs they contained. That he'd nearly gotten David killed because Colby had been overwhelmed by the past. He was not going to allow his screwed up head to endanger anybody he cared about again. They wouldn't get it at first, although Don would probably not be as bothered by it after he read the letter Colby had left for him. At least he'd gotten that right, Colby reflected. It let David off the hook about the whole mess with Lynn Potter. It was the last act Granger could take to protect his partner professionally. It felt right and gave him a measure of peace. The hours clicked by, Colby, unable to sleep, watched the sunrise, remembering.

Chapter 4 – It's A New Day, It's A New Life For Me

Don stepped off the elevator the next morning feeling slightly sheepish. When he'd conked out the night before, he'd forgotten to set his alarm clock. He stolidly ignored the accusing inner voice that kept insisting it was no accident. At any rate, he was nearly 2 hours past the time he normally showed up at the office and was sure he'd find the two remaining uninjured members of his team hard at work attacking the pile of paper that always seemed to accompany a major bust. When he reached his desk and saw only Nikki, he wasn't concerned. Colby was probably off getting his third or fourth cup of paint stripper (other people drank coffee, Don thought 'paint stripper' was as good a name as any to call what Colby drank) of the day.

"Morning" Don threw in Nikki's direction, removing his jacket.

"Morning, boss" she returned, glancing up briefly from the 302 report she was just completing. Nikki was slightly on the bleary eyed side herself, between interrogations after the raid and the hours spent at the hospital. She was also, however, determined not to give her boss any reason to find fault with her job performance again any time soon. Three weeks of phone book duty after a recent gaff was enough to get the message across.

"Just finishing this up for you" she handed him the report with an air of satisfaction. Secretly, she was also loving having beaten Colby to the report finish line. "Ha" she thought, "take that Granger."

Eppes accepted the document trying to hide a smile. Nikki seemed pleased with herself. He'd let her hold on to that a while. She had done well yesterday.

"Ok, so where'd Granger get to? I expected to see both of you when I got in here today. He's usually right behind me coming in in the morning."

"Don't know" was the response. "He wasn't here when I got here, and I haven't seen him. Figured the guys just decided to sleep in today. You're just men. You need more rest than us women. We're used to doing twelve things at once"

Don decided to rattle her cage just a little. Dropping his relaxed air, he put on his team leader voice, cocked his head at an angle and asked "and just what, Agent Bentancourt, gives you the idea that as team leader, my hours aren't my own business?" His tone was curt.

All traces of kidding left Nikki's face as she realized she may have just shot herself in the foot. "I, I, uh…nothing gives me that idea, boss. I'm just gonna sit down at get back to work." She turned away to sit, kicking herself.

Don caught on that he may have shaken a little too hard with the most recent addition to the team. "Hey, look Nikki, I was just kidding. Between me and you, I forgot to set the alarm clock. And you want to know something? It felt _good._" They both laughed, Nikki's tinged with relief.

Don looked at his watch and uttered a muffled curse. "I have to be in the AD's office in five minutes for a meeting. He stood and grabbed his recently discarded jacket. "For his sake, Colby better be here when I get back. And call the hospital. Find out how David is feeling this morning." With that, he was headed for the elevator, completely missing the reports and letter left for him by Colby the night before.

Several hundred miles away, the object of their conversation sat in the back booth of a small café, sipping an admittedly robust cup of coffee, although not up to the strength he usually preferred. Colby had been driving for a while before his stomach let him know that it was no longer willing to stand the abuse of being ignored. He pulled off the freeway and found himself in a small town about halfway between the California/Nevada border. Not five minutes into the place, he decided it reminded him of Winchester. The food served in "Suzy's Home and Hearth Café" was as good as the petite, friendly, red-haired waitress had promised it would be. Pretty, blue-eyed and single, she had thrown Colby a serious look. If he'd been in a different mood, he might have caught it. Not today. After breakfast, nursing his second cup of coffee, he stared out the window. Lost in thought, he missed the opening of the café door, and the two people who entered. Later, he would wish he'd paid more attention.

Chapter 5-Is That A Shotgun In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy to See

Me?

The taller of the pair coming into the small eatery stopped to take a good look around. Not many people, and no cops. Good. He was nervous some, but the man behind him, who just happened to be his younger brother, was practically vibrating with anticipation. Jess Daly had tried to calm his sibling down, without much luck. This would be Joey first 'job', and throwing a net over his jittery eagerness had proven to be impossible. "This is what happens," Jess thought with grim amusement, "when a man has too much time to do nothing. Idle hands truly were the devil's workshop." Enough thinking. Time to go to work. Stepping deeper into the room, giving his brother a chance to move around and beside him, Jess thrust his hand into his longish jacket and pulled out the shotgun he had hidden there. The barrel had been sawn off. He pumped the weapon and, for effect, fired a shot in the air, gaining the undivided attention of all the café's inhabitants. Joey excitedly produced a nine-millimeter handgun, brandishing it at the nearest person, which just happened to the pretty waitress that had taken Colby's order earlier. Her eyes widened with shock and fear as the gun came to bear. Joey smiled evilly. "Too bad" he thought, "this one is real nice. Wouldn't mind having a little fun. Shoot, Jess would skin him for even thinking it at a time like this. Shame" He tried to focus, wanting to impress his brother.

Jess roared. "All of you, git out of them chairs and put your faces on the floor, NOW!" He pumped another round and fired into the air once more, glaring his way around the room. Like frightened geese for the most part, the diner's patrons, startled at first into immobility, hurried to comply with the agitated order. No one wanted those guns to be pointed in their direction next. Jess aimed his weapon at the owner of the café, Suzy Daniels, who'd had the misfortune to be behind the register when the brothers arrived. Mouth open, breath coming in short, terrified gasps, Suzy stood shaking, mind suddenly thinking of her five year old grandson, whom she had dropped off at school not two hours ago. The boy's parents were already gone, killed in a car accident when their son was only two. Who would care for him if something happened to her?

Jess gave her no more time to think. He pointed the gun directly at her face.

"Open it!" he yelled, "You know what I want! And don't make me wait for it" His manner was cold, threatening.

Suzy tried to comply, but fear sapped her ability to move quickly. Jess mistook her inaction for defiance. He moved menacingly closer, angry. "I ain't gonna tell you again," he told her in a low growl. Suzy felt her limbs grow weak, seeing her death in his eyes. Just as he was about to squeeze the trigger and go for the cash himself, he heard his brother emit a startled squeak behind him.

Lying on the floor with the rest of the café's occupants, Colby found himself regretting the absence of the weapon he normally kept nestled in the small of his back. He'd reached for it automatically when the shotgun blast had gone off, ripping into his train of thought. Considerably less rattled than most of the other patrons, his brain was working overtime, turning over possible scenario's and outcomes. With his head turned toward the café's windows, he was able to see under the bottom of the booth he'd been sitting in. Movement from the outside caught his eye and he knew the situation was likely to take a drastic turn for the worse in the very near future.

Chapter 6- Slam! Pow! Socko!

Eyes following Joey's shaking finger, Jess found himself staring out of the window at two approaching sheriff's deputies. The two were holding a conversation and, for the moment, appeared to have no idea anything was amiss inside the diner. Jess spat a curse and swung his shotgun around to train it in the direction of the cops, getting closer by the second.

Colby's jaw clenched. He might have just quit the Bureau, but he still had way too much lawman in him to let the sight of the unsuspecting deputies coming under fire go unchallenged. Once the more heavily armed of the two robbers was focused on the outside threat, Colby jumped to his feet, and with an aim and a force that would have made his old high school coach beam with pride, whipped his arm forward, hurling the nearly full container of sugar he'd palmed on his way to the floor directly at the man's head. Too late, the gunman realized another danger was more imminent than the uniformed cops. His head came around just in time to be met by the heavy glass cylinder. Striking him squarely in the face, it was backed by all the force and frustration of the last few months that Colby could put behind it. Object and flesh connected with a resounding _CRACK! _The end result was everything Colby could have hoped for. Stunned by the blow, Jess's brain did a disconnect, his fingers opened and the weapon in his hands fell to the floor, the chambered shell discharging harmlessly into the ceiling. The sound of the shotgun firing caused the two deputies to react predictably. Both men crouched, reaching for service weapons. At the same time, Joey, completely panicked by the turn of events, was spinning around, trying to help his brother, keep the café customers covered and deal with the cops. Behind him, unnoticed, another of the restaurant's occupants sprang into motion. Reaching Joey at the same time Colby reached Jess, the burly crew-cut customer gave the bumbling thief a full body block, knocking Joey off his feet and the gun out of his hands. Colby pounced on Jess, slamming his head into the floor, dazing his target even further. The deputies finally reached the door, blasting thru, ready to deal with whatever hazard awaited. Sizing up the situation immediately, both cops relaxed slightly, as Colby and his fellow combatant straightened from the two now unconscious brothers.

Adrenaline rush beginning to wane, Colby sat back, settling on the floor, making sure to push the shotgun as far away as he could with his foot. Watching the officers move in to restrain the former robbers, he looked at the man who'd tackled Joey. "Colby Granger" he said extending his hand.. By way of response, the other man shook Colby's hand and gave his own name. "Danny Morse." Colby had seen the dogtag tattoo on Morse's arm earlier, but said nothing at the time. Getting a closer look at the man's ink, he realized it was fairly recent. An Iraq vet. The other vastly relieved patrons of Suzy's café rushed forward to greet the police officers, all trying at the same time to explain the situation. Eventually, backup arrived, the two Daly brothers were restrained and taken away and calm reigned again at Suzy's Home and Hearth Café. Inevitably, a news crew arrived, eager to speak to anyone who would stand still long enough to give an account of the day's events. Colby stayed as far away from the media as possible, although the TV personalities strove mightily to pin down one of the "heroes" everyone was telling them about. Finally, boxed in, he bowed to the unavoidable and gave as brief an interview as possible, glossing over his role in thwarting the robbery. As he spoke to the reporter, camera and lights semi blinding him, he had no idea of who would be watching as it aired.

Back in L. A, a harried Nikki Bentancourt, juggling an angry boss, a missing teammate and an avalanche of paperwork, gulped her fifth cup of coffee. Trying desperately to convince her stomach the coffee was a worthy substitute for lunch, Nikki scalded the roof of her mouth when she glanced at the TV in the briefing room that was always tuned to a news channel. Seeing Colby's face on the screen, she dived for the remote, stabbing the volume button with a finger. The legend at the bottom read "_Deadly Robbery Foiled by Heroics." _ Nikki listened as the reporter interviewed Granger, and then abandoned her coffee and paperwork, grabbing her phone. Don had to see this.

Chapter 7-"Colby Did What?!"

"Tell me the truth, David," Don continued, looking Sinclair over with an experienced eye. "Did you know about Colby and the Potter woman? And did you know about this?" he held up Colby's resignation letter, waving it about agitatedly. He'd returned from his meeting to find Granger had still not shown. Initially worried that something was wrong, Don was reaching for his phone to call Colby when he noticed the letter and reports left on his desk the night before. Don had recognized Colby's handwriting and was puzzled. Colby would've had to have returned to the office after leaving the hospital last night in order for this to be waiting on his boss the next day. He'd picked up the 302's and then seen the letter with "Don Eppes" emblazoned across the front. He'd read the thing twice, trying to wrap his surprised mind around the contents. _Colby was resigning? He'd slept with a material witness during a murder investigation!? Considered himself a menace to his own teammates and unfit to be an agent any longer?!_ Where was all this coming from? Colby had seemed fine. Maybe a little off his stride every now and then, but not unfit. As for Lynn Potter, Whoa! Don marveled at himself. How could he have missed this? He knew Colby was a master at concealment when he chose to be, but this! Don had expelled a breath he'd been unaware he was holding, attracting Nikki's attention. She looked over, debated whether to speak up and then took a deep breath and jumped in.

"Something up boss?" She tried to convey the impression that if it was none of her business she was fully and immediately willing to butt out, but also ready to help if she could. Whatever it was had Don hacked off, but good.

Instead of replying directly, Don rose, grabbed his jacket had started off in the direction of the elevator. Abruptly, he backpeddled to Nikki's desk. "Hold down the fort. I'll try not to be gone too long. If any emergencies come up, you've got me on speed dial." With that, he was gone, leaving a baffled Nikki Bentancourt behind him. With no other choice, she went back to doing her job, deciding once more that she would _never_ be able to comprehend the inner workings of the male mind.

Half an hour later, after showing Colby's letter to a much improved, and now wide awake David Sinclair, Don repeated his question. David and Colby were best friends. If Granger had confided in anyone, it would be the New York native. Not sure what answer to expect, Eppes was still surprised to hear the admission coming from David.

"I knew about Lynn Potter. Colby told me after it happened" David said. "I decided not to say anything to you. That if you found out, it would have to be Colby's decision. But no, Don, I didn't know he was planning to quit. I did _not _see that one coming. We've got to do something. We've got to find him, keep him from throwing away his career. And we've got get him some help." David's voice was filled with distress and concern for his friend.

"I'd say he pretty much already flushed his career, wouldn't you?!" Don was aware that his voice was rising in pitch but was too worked up too care much. "Sleeping with a material witness, David? That's not something an agent who wants to remain an agent does!" Don was furious, spitting out the words in an exasperated rush.

David, feeling his own temper beginning to flare, took a deep breath. He couldn't help Colby by getting himself fired right here and now, in his hospital room of all places. "Look," he began, "Just slow down for a minute, ok, just sit, huh?"

"I don't want to sit down, David!" Don was shouting now, "I want to find Granger, so he can take back this letter, and I can fire him!" he had really gotten worked up. After all the chances he had given Colby, for the man to repay him by this! And to not even have the guts to tell him to his face, but in a letter! Unbelievable!

David's room was very near the nurse's station. Don's loud, fiery display of temper had the effect of attracting the attention of the medical personnel on duty, one of whom came striding into the room in full nurse mode, ready to read the riot act to the FBI agent. Just as she arrived, David, trying to calm his boss down, moved too quickly in an attempt to sit up. His wounded shoulder made it's objections felt in no uncertain terms. A flash of pain shot thru David's upper torso, distracting him from everything else for the moment. "Aaaauugghh!" a strangled gasp emerged. The protective nurse moved in to assist, pushing Don out of her way, and giving the supervising agent an angry glare in the process. She opened her mouth to order him from the room.

Don was instantly contrite, "David, I'm sorry, I overreacted! You ok!? Come on, lay back" He moved in to aid the nurse, but backed away at her forbidding glower. Just then, as David was becoming more comfortable and the pain was beginning to subside, Don's cell rang. It was Nikki. At first, Don was barely able to make out the words, but gradually understood what Nikki was trying to tell him. As the words registered, Don's reaction was completely natural. His voice rose again as he yelled into the phone, "Colby did what?!"

Chapter 8- Sons, And Other Idiots

Seth Daly was fuming. Normally irascible on his best days, the sight that greeted his eyes on the television screen had the consequence of magnifying his bad mood ten-fold. For one thing, he was deciding that he should've smothered those to simpleminded fools Jess and Joey at birth. Their mama would've been upset, but so what. She'd never dare open her mouth to him. She knew better. The same applied to his children. The thought that his two youngest sons had bungled a simple stick-up of a diner in some dried up town nobody ever heard of incensed him. Those two, he concluded, couldn't find their hind ends with both hands and a map. Adding to his irritation was the interview the overdone TV reporter was doing with the second of the two men who'd whipsawed his boys so completely. Seth made note of the names of both men the reporter gushed over. Danny Morse and now this Colby Granger. They would both have to pay. Be taught a lesson. The same lesson the entire town of Perryville had already learned. The Daly's ran Perryville, used it as their home base. It was a place from which they'd launched many a crime spree, retuning to the little town to hide. Over time, the other residents had learned that the fastest way to earn a mountain of grief for themselves or their families was to cross the Daly's. To describe the Daly family as the town bullies was not strong enough a term. Seth Daly and his six sons were more the town nightmare. And that was just the way Seth liked it. Even the town's miniscule police force kept a watchful distance. Now this. Splashed all over the TV, which even the lay-down-and-walk-all-over-us sheep in Perryville could understand. He couldn't afford to let this go. He was gonna have to go and get his two idiot children. And then he would find those two "heroes" who didn't know enough to lie still and get stepped on like proper victims. Yes. They would definitely have to pay. Definitely. He stuck his head out the back door and yelled for the remainder of his offspring.

Turning down the sound level of the television David and Don looked at each other, for the moment, both lost for words. Following Nikki's somewhat breathless phone call, Don had found the controls for the TV in David's room and then located the all-news channel she'd indicated. While they had waited for the story to cycle thru again, Don had filled David in on what few details he knew. It had taken all the negotiating skills of his career and David's most woebegone expressions to persuade the nurse not to eject Don from the room, if not from the entire hospital. Which, Don remembered, was something she promised to do should it become necessary for her to come back in. She had a judo black belt and was used to manhandling patients twice her size, she'd informed him. She just might, he mused, have a decent shot at keeping her word. He promised to behave himself.

Eventually, the story of the robbery attempt at Suzy's was repeated. Don and David both listened with a growing fascination as the tale of the hold-up attempt and subsequent actions by Colby and someone named Danny Morse were repeated. They'd also seen the news reporter's interviews with both men. "He looks uncomfortable," Don thought, seeing Colby's face on the screen. "He looks exhausted," Sinclair was thinking simultaneously. After viewing the story, David hit the on/off and killed the television. He stared at Don, nonplussed.

"Wow," he said after a moment.

"Yeah," was Don's reply. Eppes gave a low chuckle. "Right now, I don't know whether I should strangle him or shake his hand."

David shook his head, carefully, so as to not aggravate his shoulder again, agreeing. That small-town, hard-headed partner of his was some piece of work. Leave it to Colby to drive straight into trouble. No, he amended, _thru_ trouble. And with typical Colby Granger blunt force, too. He determined to finish the conversation he and Don had been having about Colby. Before he could speak, however, Don flipped open his phone and dialed information. Obtaining the number he was after, he made another call. Within a couple of minutes, David heard him introducing himself as Colby's boss, explaining that Granger was an "off-duty" FBI agent and getting more details of what had happened from whomever was on the other end of the conversation. After a little more time had passed, Don hung up. Bemused, he explained to Sinclair.

"That was the sheriff's office in the county where the diner's located. They gave me some more specifics about what happened." Don then proceeded to fill in his injured teammate. Silent for a moment after Don finished his narrative, David went for the opening.

"I couldn't help but notice, you told them you were Colby's boss, not 'former boss' he began. "Does that mean what I think it does?" David stopped, waiting for the response.

"Look, David, I'm not going to tell you I'm not still plenty ticked off about this whole situation with Colby, but, I, well…" Don trailed off, clearly rethinking his earlier anger and opinion of Granger.

"Don, I got to tell you this. I've kind of felt like for sometime that maybe something was a little off with Colby. I mean, he talks a good game, and well you know Colby. He'd rather crawl across California on all fours than ask for help, but I just had a feeling. I kept trying to suss it out on the QT, but, well, he's real good at keeping things to himself. You know what I mean?"

"That, Agent Sinclair, may be the understatement of the decade." Don said with half a laugh.

"What I'm trying to say is, Don, Colby's a lot of things, but he's not a screw-up, you know that."

Don had to concede the point. David was right. For the most part, Colby was a good agent, with the makings of a great one. Sometimes, he messed up, but, then, Don admitted to himself, he wasn't exactly "Special Agent-in-Charge Perfect" either.

David pressed his case. "When you think about it, Don, Colby's had some year. No, make that some four years. First, there's the accumulated stress of a three undercover assignment he couldn't tell anyone about. An assignment he got because a man who saved his life decided to become a traitor and tried to make Colby one too. Then, during the course of that assignment, he _literally_ gets tortured to death, comes back from that to the great wall of hostility, mostly from me, I admit. Puts up with all the sideways looks and behind-the-back comments and suspicion. Topping that off, he's been shot at, blown up and nearly drowned. And last month, his godfather died in Atlanta and John Maxwell, his old Ranger CO in Afghanistan, died of cancer four months ago. To be honest, Don, I'm not that shocked that Colby ended up in bed with Lynn Potter. I'm more surprised he's hasn't climbed up on to the roof of the federal building and started picking people off.!"

Don held up both hands in surrender. "Ok, Ok, Dr. Sinclair, I get it, alright. Maybe Colby deserves a hearing after all. And, maybe, just maybe I've been so busy being his boss, I missed a few warning signs. So, since you've obviously been looking at this a little more clearly than I have, what do you suggest?"

David, happy to have carried the day but smart enough not to gloat about it, was ready. "Find him, talk to him, get him back to L. A. Once he's here, we get him to retract that letter. And then we get him some help"

"Yeah" Don answered. "I'll find him. And I will get him back here, kicking and screaming if I have too." He smiled somewhat wickedly.

Just then, his medical nemesis from earlier made a reappearance, deciding Don had stayed long enough. Before she could speak, Don gave her a cheery smile, grabbed her by the shoulders, gave her a crisp peck on the cheek, waved to Sinclair, and left.

Chapter 9- Fifteen Minutes of Fame

The next morning, after they'd both given additional statements to the police, Colby and Danny sat in an anteroom of the town's courthouse, which doubled as it's police station, waiting for some of the local furor to die down. The robbery attempt, as frightening as it had been for those trapped inside the café, was the most exciting thing to happen in Denby in months. Everyone, from the town gossips to the one newspaper, to the owners of the barbershop and grocery stores wanted to talk to their two "saviors" and shake their hands. Not a very attractive prospect for either man, so they both accepted the Sheriff's offer to wait until the coast was clear.

The wait had given them the opportunity to talk. There hadn't been much of that at first, both men sitting in silence, each organizing his thoughts. Morse, Colby learned, was a L.A. county paramedic. He was taking a vacation and had been doing some hiking in nearby foothills and decided to stop in for a bite at the first eatery he passed, which, just his luck, happened to be Suzy's.

"You know what they say" he quipped dryly to Colby. "Location, location, location."

Colby huffed in amusement, but said nothing. His mind was still on the incident of the day before. Stopping the two gunmen, especially before they'd been able to cause any injury to the innocent bystanders or the deputies, it'd felt right, normal. He cut the feeling off. That road was closed. No use trying to travel down it again. Morse, however, was apparently thinking along the same lines. Sizing Colby up from the corner of his eye, he spoke his mind.

"You handled yourself pretty good yesterday. Cool under fire, reacting at just the right time, in just the right way. Kind of like you do it all the time. Like a cop. Some form of cop, anyway" He gave Colby a questioning look.

Granger shrugged. "Used to be FBI, 'til recently," he conceded.

"How recently?" Danny asked. Morse had the feeling there was a lot more the other man was holding back. He waited, not pushing.

"Forty-eight hours ago, give or take" Colby answered, almost reluctantly. All of a sudden, he didn't want to talk about it anymore. He had the irrational fear that if he didn't change the subject right now, the dam would burst and everything would come spilling out. "Yeah" Colby thought, "Wouldn't that be great, unloading all my crap on a near total stranger" He took a deep breath and turned his head to stare out of the window.

"Seems to me like you wish you still were one" Morse told him, not letting go of the subject. "I get the feeling you walked from it, it didn't walk away from you. That you gave up something you really wanted to hold on to."

"I did what I had to" Colby said, tone indicating the topic was closed.

"Maybe you should talk about it. Maybe it's time you did." Morse paused. "Look man, I've been where you're at. The reason I know what's going thru your head is because I've had those thoughts already. That's how I know the signs. And I know something else too. If you don't deal with it, it'll eat you."

"It's not something I want to discuss" Colby replied flatly. He could see part of the town's main street outside the window. Automatically making note of makes and model's of the vehicles as they went by, he absently recorded the passing of a green SUV loaded with several men. It seemed to have quieted down outside. Before Morse could say anything else, Colby stood.

"I think it's clear. I'm gonna go back to my room, get my stuff packed. Got a lot of driving to do." He opened the door.

"To where?" Danny Morse asked him. "Wherever you go, whatever's biting you is still going to be there waiting."

"That's my problem, isn't it?" was Colby's parting shot. He stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Granger walked out of the courthouse, blinking in the brightness of midday. Crossing the street, he walked the short two blocks to his motel. He failed to notice the green SUV he'd seen earlier, which had circled the block and was now slowly keeping pace behind him. Glaring coldly, Seth Daly, accompanied by only one of his other sons, eyed one of the two men responsible for Jess and Joey being jailed. Following Colby until he entered the building, the Daly's kept driving. First they had to bust out Jess and Joey and then they would take care of Granger and Morse. First work, then play.

Chapter 10-Hang on, Help is On It's Way

Being transported in a county prison van back to Denby after being treated for the broken nose and minor concussion he'd received during the aborted robbery attempt, Jess Daly winced as the vehicle hit yet another pothole, jostling the passengers.

"Hey," he snarled, "why don't you try to miss one, huh.!?" He lunged forward, using up all of the one inch of space allowed him by his shackles. One of the deputies riding in the back of the van with Jess stood to his feet and gave the prisoner a warning look.

"Shut up" the man told Daly, remembering that one of the two men this particular criminal had been intending to kill the day before was a good friend of his. The officer turned his head to glare balefully at the other prisoner, Joey Daly, who wisely shrank back into the corner he was in and kept silent. The younger brother was secretly comforted by the fact that there were a pair of peace officers between he and Jess, and that they had been placed on opposite ends during the ride back to Denby. Joey was acutely aware that his brother had been gleefully filled in by the authorities on Joey's less than stellar conduct during the hold up. Upon regaining consciousness and finding himself in custody, Jess had decided to blame his circumstances at least partially on his kin. A fact he did not bother to hide from Joey. Glancing at his relative, Joey Daly quickly looked away from the furious, fixed stare he got.

"When I git free," Jess promised himself, "the first thing I'm gonna do is wring my brother's scrawy neck. Not only did he fail completely at watching my back, but he goes and gits _hisself _ knocked out cold too! Useless little buttwipe!" He yanked at his shackles again in pure frustration.

He was jerked out of his homicidal reverie with brutal swiftness as the van was suddenly slammed from one side with a reverberating metal _CRUNCH!!! _All of the van's occupants found themselves holding on for dear life as the van unexpectedly tilted over on two wheels. Settling back down on to all four tires, the driver of the van was given no chance to recover before it was hit again, harder. The upshot this time being a slow, inexorable slide onto it's opposite side. The Daly brothers, restrained by their cuffs and chains, were held, painfully, more or less in place. The deputy driving the van and the two officers riding in the back with the brothers were not so fortunate. Tossed about by the impact, all three officers were stunned and still struggling to recover when the van doors were pried open and Jess and Joey Daly found themselves staring at three of their four brothers. Working quickly, the cops were knocked unconscious, and soon all five Daly's were ready to flee the scene. Jess, now chain free, whipped around and grabbed a gun taken from one of the cops. Pointing it at the man who'd told him to shut up earlier, he smiled cruelly. Before he could fire, his oldest brother, Ben, pulled the gun from his hand and smacked Jess on the back of his head, setting it to ringing.

"Are you really that stupid?! Git in the truck, _NOW!!!, _ We gotta git back to Daddy and Wallace. We're finished here!" Wth that, Ben Daly got into the driver's seat of the huge battered pickup with it's modified front end, that had been used in the attack. Jess ran to jump into the bed of the truck, barely preventing himself from being left behind as the family roared off towards the town of Denby.

Don Eppes pulled into the picturesque square, reflecting that if "small town America" described any place, it was this. He had counted one whole stoplight on his way down the tiny metropolis's "main street." Driving past a grocery store, barbershop and dry cleaners, Don was willing to bet they were the sole establishments of their kind in the entire area. He asked for, and received, with a couple of very curious looks, directions to the courthouse/police headquarters. Parking and emerging from his Tahoe, he stretched and took another look around at the town of Denby, California, population 246, a sign proudly announced to visitors. Smiling, he proceeded up the front steps and into the building.

It had proven to be much easier for Don to wrangle time away to go and look for Granger than he'd thought it would. Assistant Directors, it seemed, watched the news too. The AD had seen the news report, realized one of the two men who'd spoiled the robbery was an agent out of his field office and immediately decided it made excellent PR for the FBI. The man was about to have his assistant track down the leader of the team this agent was on, when said leader, Don Eppes, knocked on the AD's door. In very short order, Don found himself dispatched on an assignment to retrieve the valiant agent and return the man to L.A. to be (very publicly), Don was sure, congratulated by the Assistant Director. Carefully neglecting to mention Colby's decision to resign from the bureau, Don promised to do so. He'd left instructions with Nikki and given David an update and headed out. Now in Denby, walking into what passed for the bull-pen area of the police department, Don was greeted by a deputy.

"Special Agent Don Eppes, FBI" He introduced himself producing id and shaking the man's hand. He explained that he was Colby Granger's boss. "Can somebody tell me where I can find him?"

The officer was surprised. "He's FBI!?, he, well, the whole time he never mentioned that! Not at the café and not here! How do you like that, huh?"

Don glossed over the awkward moment. "Do you know where he is right now? I really need to talk to him."

"Well, we only have one motel, so, he's probably there." The affable man pointed Don in the direction of the motel, two blocks away.

Arriving at the motel, however, Don was informed that Colby and the other man from the news report, Danny Morse, were not currently in residence.

Morse, staying in the same motel, had gone to Colby's room and persuaded him to go for a head-clearing run on the mild autumn day. The motel's owner informed Don he had missed them by about twenty minutes. Receiving a rumble from his midsection, Don was reminded of how long ago breakfast had been. He was in the process of walking to Suzy's at the "far" end of town, when he was flagged down by the deputy he'd spoken with earlier, driving at a high rate of speed and clearly agitated.

"We got a big problem headed our way. Those two arrested yesterday, they were being brought back here after being treated for injuries and somebody attacked the van and freed 'em.! We think they may be after your agent and that other fella!"

Don informed him that Granger and Morse were out running and that he was heading for his SUV, which contained backup weaponry. Then both headed in the direction they'd been told Colby and Danny had gone, determined to be in time.

Chapter 11- If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd 've Baked A Cake

Moving in companionable silence along the quiet road, Colby found himself admitting, grudgingly, that perhaps Morse was right. The exercise did seem to be helping pull him at least partially out of his funk. "Maybe I'm sweating out some of the poison" he thought, pulling in as deep a breath as he could manage. Legs and arms pumping in rhythm, he turned his head to say so to his running partner.

"Yeah" Morse said, agreeably. " I kind of though it might. A good sweat usually makes me feel better."

Both men fell quiet again, moving with the practiced ease of good conditioning. They'd hit a tree lined stretch, with shallow ravine's on either side of the dirt road. The shade came as a welcome respite from the sun. About three miles from the town, by mutual unspoken consent, they stopped to catch their breath under a large oak tree, branches spreading out plentifully overhead. Sipping from small bottle of cool water, Morse suggested heading back to town. They turned to make the run back, not noticing a battered old pickup truck, kicking up dust as it closed the distance. Colby's ears registered the sound of a motorized vehicle behind him. Moving to the side to allow whomever it was to pass, he looked to see Danny Morse doing the same on the other side of the road. It so happened that Granger's head was in just the position to see that the truck, which should have been holding to the middle of the roadway, seemed, bizarrely, to be headed straight for him instead. With a shock, he realized it _was_ headed directly at him. At the same time that fact registered in his brain, two other things happened. First, his survival instincts kicked in, propelling him off the road and down the slope of the shallow depression to his left side. The truck passed him in a blur, missing it's target by a hair's breath. Second, he heard what sounded like a second auto come to a tire-scrapping halt in the dirt. Doors opened and then slammed shut as the occupants emerged, malicious intent becoming evident as a hostile and unfortunately familiar voice rang out.

"Hey, Mr. Hero, remember me, huh? I'm back just for you and your friend. Gonna settle up with him too!" Jess Daly's voice promised with evil gusto. A yowl of pain erupted, preventing Jess from continuing his tirade as his brother Ben again favored the second youngest Daly with a sound blow to the rear of his head. "Shut your mouth, you idiot! We ain't here to talk 'em to death!" Seeing the nod from their father, Ben indicated for Jess to follow, trailed by brothers Wallace and Tommy.

Colby watched from cover as half the Daly family, armed with various lethal means, half slid down the hill towards his position. Moving off silently, Granger found time to both again lament his own weaponless state and be relieved, that, apparently, Danny had also been missed in the initial onslaught. He could hear indications that the balance of the Daly's were hunting for the other man. Hoping Morse could elude his pursuers until Colby could find a way link up, the former FBI agent decided he needed to level the playing filed at least partially. Moving with a skill acquired by years of dealing with both Taliban and criminal adversaries, he ghosted thru the thick brush, straining to figure out the positions of the men stalking him. He needed a gun. They had them to spare, so…

It took about twenty seconds for Colby to comprehend that the men searching for him had next to no experience in wooded areas. He could hear them crashing thru the undergrowth noisily, resembling nothing so much as a group of bloodthirsty elephants. He took that thought back. It was insulting to elephants. At least it was easy to tell where they were. Very carefully, he eased his way around the closest one, a face he did not recognize, not that it mattered who it belonged to for the moment. Setting a semi-circular course, he was trying for the road. Morse was trapped on the other side and needed his help. Suddenly, he found himself nearly on top of an unsuspecting Jess Daly, whose back was towards Colby. In the would-be thief's hands was a sight that put a predatory gleam in Granger's eyes. A gun. And not just any, but a .45 caliber TRP. No telling how this mongrel (sorry mongrels, he silently apologized) got his hands on one. Colby crept closer. Reaching out, he tapped his quarry's shoulder. Expecting to see one of his family, Jess Daly was instead unpleasantly greeted by an angry fist headed straight for his bandaged, sensitive and still _extremely_ painful nose. Instinctively, his hands flew up to protect the vulnerable area. Not soon enough. The fist connected. The world went away for Jess as the agony of his broken nose being assaulted claimed all his attention. Fingers going limp, the gun fell to the ground as Jess found himself being expertly taken down. Ten seconds later, he was out cold, and Colby was in possession of the gun he'd needed. Grasping the weapon securely in his palm, he headed for the dirt road. Before he made it all the way, he heard semi-auto weapons fire ring out.

Dodging the speeding pickup had resulted in Danny Morse's landing in a thick patch of scrub at the bottom of the hill. Nursing scratches and cuts gained in his decent, Morse knew he had to move. Hearing the attackers bellicose announcement, he realized their identity. Great, just great. These gun-wielding nut jobs just didn't know when to stop, did they? He headed for nearby trees. This was very different from the sun-scorched battlegrounds Danny had been on in Iraq, but all his dormant combat instincts flared to life. Without a weapon of his own, his best bet for not getting dead today was to stay hidden, but lying passively and hoping for rescue went against his nature. More than a few dead Iraqi's were testament to that. Granger was on pinned on the other side, with problems of his own. Time to help himself. Morse crouched lower as a big, rough looking older man with salt-and-pepper hair stalked past, followed by two others, younger. The old man had a semi-auto rifle. The two younger ones looked to be armed with handguns. As the third man passed, Danny recognized Joey Daly. A malignant grin lit his face. Waiting until the youngest of the clan was three feet beyond him, Morse launched himself in a repeat of the tackle he'd made in the diner. Driving Joey face first into the packed earth, Danny heard a grunt of pain as his victim lay momentarily trapped between the ground and Morse's one hundred and eighty pounds. Scooping up the .357 Magnum Joey had been holding, Danny rolled swiftly out of sight as the two standing Daly's tried to bring their own guns to bear.

Hearing movement behind him, Danny swung around desperately, fearing another enemy. Finger tightening on the trigger, he recognized Colby's face, and only the iron control earned in Fallujah and Takrit kept him from firing. Granger motioned with his head and both faded deeper into the brush, as all the Daly's, hearing the gun battle unfolding, converged on them, weapons firing, tightening the deadly circle.

Chapter 12- The Reports of My Death

Don Eppes sped down the narrow dirt road away from the town, following the siren-blaring sheriff's deputy at a breakneck pace to where he hoped he would find Colby and Morse, still alive and well. As the two vehicles raced along, Don comforted himself with the thought that both men had been under fire many times before. Anyone seeking to do either of them harm would likely find it an expensive proposition.

Flattening himself as much as he could, Colby Granger took aim at a member of the Daly's as the man charged at him, firing. Stopping to alert the other members of the brood with a yell, Colby's target quickly discovered that move to be an error as Granger's well placed shot found a home, center mass. Seeing the man fall heavily with a grunt of agony, Granger moved over to cover Morse, who was drawing a bead another Daly son. Before Danny could fire, however, shots from both behind and in front told Granger and Morse they had been encircled. Crashing thru the woods with all the grace of a wounded rhino, Jess Daly lumbered into view, having come into possession of another gun. Eyes filled with seething hatred, he was determined to make the man who had humiliated and injured him suffer and die screaming. Jess no longer wanted to kill from a distance, but to shoot his victim in the gut and hear the torment filled cries. Outracing his siblings and father to converge on the spot where he assumed his target was hidden, Jess was knocked off his feet once again as Danny Morse, presented with an excellent opportunity, took it. The slug caught Jess in the side, flinging him to the ground, bleeding and moaning with searing pain. Danny's sense of satisfaction at seeing Jess Daly go down was short-lived. As Morse had been aiming at Jess, Seth Daly had been honing in on him, and the patriarch's shot echoed his own. Danny felt the familiar sensation as the bullet penetrated, passing thru the fleshy part of his leg. He next felt Colby's hand under his shoulder, dragging him to deeper, but ever shrinking cover. Colby could hear his and Danny's hunters growing ever closer, could hear the moans of agony from Jess Daly and his brother and then, faintly, hoping it was not some trick his stressed out mind was playing on him, what sound like sirens, distant but coming nearer. A shot missing him by no more than half an inch, followed by several others forced him to wait before retuning fire. Beside him, Granger heard Morse raise up. Turning his head, he was startled to see Danny appearing to aim directly at him. Realizing in an instant, Colby flung himself sideways as Danny's shot whistled over him close enough to feel the wind of it's passing.

"Uuuggh!" Another Daly down. That left four remaining enemies.

The approaching sirens stopped. Incredibly, the next sound Colby heard was the wonderfully welcome bellow of Don Eppes in full voice.

"FBI! Drop your weapons and get on the ground!" A shouted warning from another voice Colby didn't recognize followed Don's. Both were foolishly ignored by the Daly family, much to their regret, A rapid exchange of further gunfire, ably assisted by Colby and Danny Morse, resulted in one dead and six wounded criminals and two vastly relieved, bloody and bruised, but happily, alive former targets. Soon, all six remaining living Daly's, in varying degrees of health, were disarmed and cuffed, and backup was arriving in the form of ambulances and other officers.

Hours later, after having his wounded leg (what turned out to be a through and through wound) repaired, Danny Morse was refusing further pain medication, insistent on talking to Colby. Finally, anxious to get her patient settled down, the nurse relented. As Colby entered the room, the woman gave him a whispered "five minutes" and slipped out. Colby sat by the bed.

"Ok, I'm here. Now you want to tell me why you won't let them give you enough of these excellent drugs to knock you out? When that anesthesia wears off, you know you're not going to want to be awake!"

"Look, do you remember when I told you I knew what you were thinking 'cause I'd already had those thoughts myself?" Danny asked him.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so" was the reply.

"That wasn't just words. Before I was a life-saving, heroic paramedic in and for the county of Los Angeles, I was a cop. And after that, I did two tours in Iraq. I know what it feels like, man, to want to crawl out of your own head and hide from the world." Danny gave Colby a steady gaze. Uneasy at the turn the conversation had taken, Colby looked away, but then looked back.

"So, I'm assuming you have a point" he countered wearily.

"You assume right. Look, it's up to you if you want to come or not, but I'm part of this group. Some are cops, some do other things, even got a couple of feds. All of us are vets, some from Iraq, some from Afghanistan, a couple from Vietnam, and some from places they can't tell anybody they've been. No shrinks or psychologists or counselors, just us. We get together at the VA center in L.A a few times a month and talk. That's all. Just talk. About anything, but mostly, the trash and crap that's been messing up our heads. You only have to say what you want and you can stop talking whenever you feel like it. I ain't saying it's a cure-all, but it helps, a lot. Think about it, ok?" Danny finished, handing him a small, smudged card he'd had cupped in his hand.

Colby took the card, slipping it into his pocket with reservations. "Alright, I'll think about it. Now, take your pain meds and go to sleep, will ya?" He gave Danny a lopsided smile and left the room.

Finally having the chance to sample the fare of Suzy's Home and Hearth Café, Don gave a small, satisfied, and hopefully, not obvious belch of appreciation. Paying the tab, he then, purposefully, went in search of his quarry. Finding him sitting on the steps in front of the courthouse, Eppes took up a place next to Colby.

"What a day, Huh?" he said tiredly.

Colby was silent for a moment, then lifted the cup of water he held. "To the Daly's" Granger saluted. "May they live long and all die in prison. Separate ones."

Don snorted a laugh. "Amen" he returned. Neither man spoke for a span, then Don looked at Colby. "You know, the ADIC sent me out here to find you. It seems he saw the news reports and thinks that stalwart young agents like yourself are good for the Bureau's image." He gave Granger a wry look.

Colby, with a wry look of his own, asked "Does he know I'm no longer a stalwart young agent and why?" He almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Yeah, about that." Don paused and removed Colby's resignation letter from his jacket pocket. Holding it out, he waited until Granger took it from him to continue. "Look, Colby, I'm not going to tell you I'm ok with you sleeping with a material witness, especially during the middle of a case, but, well…" Eppes hesitated, deciding how to proceed. " It's just this. It has been recently, uh, pointed out to me that, um, you've had a lot thrown at you in the last year or so." He held up his hand as Colby was about to interrupt.

"Colby, if I've learned anything from all those sessions with Bradford, it's that we all need help sometime, even the 'Mighty Granger.' He grinned at Colby's startled look. "Oh, so you didn't know, huh? You've acquired a reputation, my friend. The 'Mighty Granger', wind him up and turn him loose. Mr. Indestructible" Eppes said lightly. Then he grew serious. "You're not though, you know. Indestructible, I mean. Even you have a limit. The key, Colby, is not to be too stubborn or proud to admit that, maybe, you've reached yours. Found that out the hard way too. Unfortunately, stubborn pride, Agent Granger, is something you do all too well." His look dared Colby to contradict the statement. Colby didn't.

Don finished. "So, that said, got a proposition for you. Come back with me to L.A. Shake the ADIC's hand for the cameras and get your pat on the back. Give it sixty days. In the meantime, talk to Bradford, or whoever you feel comfortable with. At the end of two months, if you still want to give that back to me," he gestured at the letter in Granger's hands, "I'll take it, no questions asked. Deal?"

Colby thought for a long moment, looking at the letter. Then, taking what felt like his first clear-headed breath in over a year, he returned Don's quiet, straightforward gaze. "Deal" was all he said.

Don clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. I know you drove. Be ready to roll in a half an hour, ok?" He turned away and walked back to his truck.

_Four weeks later, Colby was putting the finishing touches on the 302 report he was preparing for Don. After successfully putting another case in the closed column, he could hear his teammates arranging a celebratory drink at their favorite agreed upon watering hole. He sensed, rather than saw David's approach. Just back to work after several weeks of convalescing, Sinclair was glad to see his partner in his accustomed place. _

"_Come on, man. You can finish that in the morning! Let's go. Cold beer waits for no man!" David coaxed Colby with a wide grin. _

"_Uh, not tonight, ok guys. I got something else I need to do. Next time, I promise" Colby replied, making as quick an exit as he could. David stared after him, concerned. Were Granger's inner demons trying to rear their ugly heads again? He turned to Don and Nikki. _

"_Look, I'll catch up with you guys, alright. Just remembered something I need to take care of now" David said. Don gave a shrewd look but said nothing. He and Agent Bentancourt turned and headed for the elevator. As soon as the other two were gone, David grabbed his keys and hustled for the garage, hoping he was still in time to catch up to Colby. He was. Colby's truck was just leaving the garage and Sinclair was able to follow, mystified as to Colby's destination, worried. He watched as Colby parked in front of a non- descript building, waiting until his partner had gone inside. Entering after him, David found himself in narrow hallway, observing, unnoticed. After a few moments, he heard Colby's voice, subdued but calm._

"_I once told a friend that sometimes, you have to talk about it, let it out. Guess it's time to take my own advice, huh?" He went on, every word helping to reclaim a bit more of the Colby Granger that had been lost for so long._

_David listened for a while, and then, satisfied that his friend was going to be alright, turned and left, slipping quietly down the steps and into his car, to meet Don and Nikki for that celebration drink. _

The End


End file.
